


The Dance We Learned Together

by scheese_and_quokkas



Category: Tell it to the Bees
Genre: Book - Freeform, F/F, Fiona Shaw, Novel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22059643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheese_and_quokkas/pseuds/scheese_and_quokkas
Summary: Honey bees use a special dance to communicate the location of a new nesting site and all move together to their new home.This work continues on from the book's conclusion and follows this little family as they navigate their new life in Italy. No promises of any substantial plot - just a series of small events that have been dancing around in my head. Hope you enjoy.
Relationships: Dr. Jean Markham/Lydia Weekes
Comments: 24
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

Italy was so much more humid than England, Charlie thought as he turned in his sheets, having to peel his legs apart to do so. His bedroom lay on the upper floor, and all the heat of the day seemed to have risen up and got trapped there. He longed to throw open the window and let in the night air, but the windows were painted shut. Charlie and his mum and Dr. Markham had been working hard on the house, but there was so much work to do downstairs that they hadn’t got around to unsticking the upstairs windows yet.

Dr. Markham had bought a house on the outskirts of the city. They had looked at lots of houses in the weeks after arriving. Some of them were right in the middle of the city, where all day long you could hear people chatting away in rich Italian, the honk of motor cars, and the buzz of scooters. Others were in big apartment buildings, and Charlie found it a very odd idea, to live so high in the air with strangers all around you.

The house they lived in now was one that his mum had said she liked before they’d even gone in. Charlie liked it too, but that was only because there was a big tree in the front yard. The road was made of dirt, and even if Charlie ran as fast as he could, it took more than a minute until he reached the neighbours’ house.

Almost all the houses on their road were built with the same materials: pale, unevenly cut bricks stacked up neatly into two or three storied houses with tiled roofs. Some had balconies and shutters, and most had chimneys, though with such warm weather Charlie couldn’t imagine why anybody would want to light a fire here.

Dr. Markham wasn’t sure about the house at first; it had lots of problems and she said it would need a lot of work. But since Charlie didn’t have to go to school over summer, and his Mum didn’t have to go to the factory anymore, and Dr. Markham didn’t have many patients yet, they had lots of time to fix it up. Today he had spent the morning sanding down the floorboards in the front room while Dr. Markham lay with her head in the cupboard under the kitchen sink, trying to find out what was making the gurgling noise in the pipes when they ran the water. His mum made lunch and passed tools down to the doctor, and afterwards they’d had sandwiches and lemonade under the tree and Charlie had been allowed to take his bicycle and go exploring on his own.

It was no good. Charlie sat up in bed and scratched at the nape of his neck where sweat was making him itchy. He’d go downstairs and get a glass of water. Hopefully the gurgling pipes wouldn’t wake anybody up. He tiptoed down the hallway and began to gently descend the stairs, trying not to disturb the quiet of the house. Halfway down though, he saw that he was the only one who had gone to bed. Dr. Markham sat at one end of the sofa, reading a book in a shallow pool of lamplight. And lying across the remaining cushions, with her head in the doctor’s lap, was the sleeping form of his mother.

Charlie reeled, and had to grip the bannister to keep himself from falling. He rubbed his eyes hard and blinked them furiously, but when his vision cleared the scene before him was unchanged. He peered unfalteringly at the two women, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw that Dr. Markham had her fingers tangled in his mother’s hair. Her hand moved slowly and absent-mindedly as she frowned at her book in the lamplight.

Charlie sat down softly on the stairs, simultaneously confused and transfixed. He was torn between wanting to run back to his bed and pretending this had all been a dream, and wanting to stay and watch to see what else would happen, to see if it would make him understand. As though his indecision had sailed across the room, his mother suddenly gave a violent jerk and a small gasp escaped her lips.

‘Ohh,’ she gave a self-conscious groan and curled into Jean, so that her nose was pressed against the doctor’s belly. ‘I dreamed I was falling.’

Dr. Markham gave a smile so tender that her face suddenly looked different to how Charlie had ever seen it before.

‘Come to bed, my love,’ Jean smoothed Lydia’s hair off her forehead and gently traced nonsensical patterns across her skin. ‘I’ve just read the same sentence five times in a row and I still haven’t managed to translate it. I’m surprised you didn’t wake from all my yawning.’

Charlie couldn’t see it, but he heard the smile in his mother’s reply. ‘I was having the most wonderful dream,’ she murmured against the cotton of Jean’s blouse. ‘We were at the lake, in summer. We had a picnic, and Charlie was sailing his boat. We sat in the shade and you held my hand and nobody minded. And you kissed me, in the middle of the day, in front of Charlie, in front of everyone.’

Lydia turned her head to look Jean in the eye, unsure if this would make her happy or melancholy.

‘I wish to god I could do that,’ Jean took her hand and squeezed it. ‘One day, maybe, when we’re old and grey. Maybe then people won’t mind so much.’

‘We will tell Charlie though, won’t we?’

‘When the time is right,’ Jean nodded. ‘Give him some time to settle into this new life first. I’m afraid we’ll turn his world upside down all over again.’

‘Mmm,’ Lydia murmured her agreement. ‘Though, do you know, sometimes I think he must surely have guessed already. How can he possibly miss how happy you make me?’

‘He sees his mother happy,’ Jean said simply. ‘The cause is not important.’ Then she paused, suddenly unsure. ‘You _are_ happy, aren’t you Lydia?’

‘More than I can tell you,’ Lydia spoke earnestly.

‘Come to bed,’ Jean repeated, smiling. ‘I want to fall asleep in your arms.’

Lydia sat up and pressed a kiss to the lips she now knew better than her own, before standing up to stretch.

When she offered her hand to the doctor, the spell Charlie was under broke and he began to quietly ascend the stairs. He lay in his bed with a thumping heart, willing his breathing to slow in case one of the women peeped in to check he was sleeping. But there was only the brief halt of footsteps outside his door, and the knob kept still. He listened as two people brushed their teeth, padded back and forth across the hallway, and switched off the lights. He heard one door being opened and closed and then the muffled orchestra of gentle mattress groans as two people settled into one bed.

He reconjured the image of his mother asleep in Dr. Markham’s lap, looking so peaceful. Then he imagined Dr. Markham asleep next to his mother in bed. He knew with a sudden certainty that his mother had never slept in her own bed at the old house, and probably not in this one, either. And that something about that was why they had all moved to Italy.

He wondered whether that ought to concern him. It seemed to concern his dad a lot, and Aunty Pam, too. But Aunty Pam had let his mum visit Annie a heap before they left, and that was a strange thing to do if you didn’t like someone. Annie didn’t seem to mind that his mum wanted to sleep next to Dr. Markham. And then, he thought, why shouldn’t his mother want to sleep next to Dr. Markham? He knew she was pretty, and Dr. Markham was pretty too, in her own way. And she made his mum so happy. It was much nicer to have her happy and dancing than to come home from the park and find her crying into the tea.

He couldn’t work out why sleeping next to the doctor and kissing her in secret would make her happy, but if that’s what it took then he wouldn’t argue. Charlie yawned and rolled onto his other side. Maybe he would tell them tomorrow that it was okay. He’d noticed his mum had stopped wearing her wedding band since they’d moved to Italy. If Dr. Markham wanted to be his mum’s new husband, it was fine by him.


	2. Chapter 2

‘Dr. Markham!’ Charlie called, seeing the woman walking past the window with a long wooden ladder under her arm.

Jean paused, putting down the ladder and shielding her eyes from the sun to wait for Charlie. It was the beginning of another beautiful day, with temperatures already soaring mid-morning. She had dressed as lightly as was acceptable, in the high-waisted brown shorts she knew made Lydia stare at her rear for several seconds longer than she ought to, and one of her older blouses that she usually reserved for messier tasks like this one.

She listened as Charlie’s eager feet tore down the front steps and then pounded at the dry Italian earth as he ran to catch her.

‘Dr. Markham!’ he repeated, a little breathless with excitement. ‘What are you doing? Can I come too?’

‘I’m going to inspect the roof,’ she gestured to the ladder. ‘Or try to. Now that I’m here I’m not certain this is long enough for a house this tall.’

She saw Charlie’s eyes shine and knew that this was the kind of adventure he would love. ‘And what does your mother have to say about climbing to such heights?’ she asked him pointedly.

‘Mum went to the market,’ Charlie visibly deflated. ‘And she’d probably say no.’

‘It’s only because she loves you so much,’ Jean gave his shoulder a squeeze. ‘Would you help me though, and hold the ladder steady?’

He helped her carry it to the back of the house where there were no balconies to get in the way, but they quickly found that even if one was to climb to the upmost rung of the ladder, a very impressive jump would still be needed to gain access to the roof.

Jean put her hands to her hips and frowned up at the house, searching her brain for an alternative. But it was Charlie who ultimately came up with their solution.

‘Dr. Markham,’ he pointed to where a bough from the large tree at the front of their property hung over a corner of the roof. ‘Mum said I could climb if I wanted to.’

Jean grinned in spite of herself at Charlie’s craftiness in defying Lydia’s wishes without actually breaking her rules. He was a resourceful fellow, and she knew that would serve him well as he navigated this strange new chapter in his life. She took a closer look at the tree’s relationship to the roof, and decided it was their best option. Not the safest by a country mile, but the guttering desperately wanted clearing, and the pieces of broken tile strewn through the lawn had her worried there was a hole in the roof that would have water pouring through the ceiling the minute the weather turned. And so before long she found herself picking her way cautiously up the tree after Charlie, who scrambled on ahead of her with apparent ease, a wide smile on his face.

Charlie, for his part, was thrilled. Dr. Markham had found his idea a good one, and it felt wonderful to teach her something for a change. Several times she asked him to point out the best footholds on the parts of the tree that he had already traversed, and he proudly pointed them out to her.

Dr. Markham had him wait for her at the last bough, so that she could go across first and test its sturdiness. For a metre or so the branch jutted out over nothingness, and if it cracked, there was nothing to hang on to. Jean took a deep breath to steady herself and then ran nimbly along the branch, leaping lightly onto the roof like a cat. Charlie applauded her, and then looked at the long distance to the ground.

‘Don’t look down, Charlie,’ Jean called. ‘It’s a good strong branch, you can take your time.’

‘What if I fall?’

‘If you fall you’ll break a lot of bones. And your mother will cut me up with a blunt knife and turn me into your supper.’

That made him smile. Gathering his courage, he wrapped his whole body around the branch and dropped beneath it, making his way across in a steady sloth-like fashion. Before he knew it, Dr. Markham was helping him down, and they stood together on top of the world, or so it seemed to Charlie.

He wished his mum was there to wave at him from the ground, so she could see how brave he’d been. A big part of him wished his dad was there to see as well, though a bigger part wished he didn’t care what his dad thought of him.

The roof was almost flat, sloping down at a shallow angle to help the rain away, and once he’d found his feet, Charlie wasn’t afraid to walk over it. Dr. Markham showed him how to clear the gutters, which were clogged up with leaves, and Charlie enjoyed being allowed to fling the debris down on the lawn below. He made a game of it, trying to fling each handful onto the same patch of grass.

While he worked away on the gutters, lying on his front so as not to lose his balance, Jean walked over the neat rows of tiles, testing their strength. To her dismay, she found that many were so loose she was able to dislodge them with the toe of her shoe, and a section on the far side had so many tiles missing that she could see the support struts underneath.

She sat down to worry. The only consolation was that the focal damage appeared to be over Lydia’s bedroom – a room that held her clothes and books and precious things, but had never been used by Lydia to sleep in. At the very least, if the roof began to leak, her love would be safe and dry right next to her during the night.

Jean sighed. She knew how to set a broken bone, knew how much morphine to give a dying man. She could cure an infection, stop a person from bleeding to death, and could do a dozen different kind of sutures with her eyes closed. She could diagnose an illness by the way it changed a child’s breathing, and detect a heart condition with nothing but her fingertips. She held the knowledge of a hundred medical texts in her head, and her hands carried the experience of over a decade and a half’s work. She could do things that most people never dreamed of. But for the life of her, she had no idea how to fix a broken roof.

The cost would not be trivial, that she knew. More likely than not, she would need to hire some men to do the job properly. For that, she would need to work out the Italian to explain the situation. And somehow ensure that her foreignness and her femaleness would not be taken advantage of. Really, the only useful thing about the language barrier was that she could feign ignorance if anyone asked about her husband, and why he wasn’t fixing the roof.

 _‘Yes, Lydia,’_ she imagined herself teasing _. ‘What sort of husband do you fancy yourself to be? Why aren’t you repairing our roof?’_

She knew exactly the kind of look she would receive in return: Incredulousness, followed by a raised eyebrow and then a calculated intake of breath as Lydia prepared to meet her challenge.

 _‘Forgive me, my darling,’_ Lydia would say. ‘ _For a moment I thought you were insinuating that I was the husband in this relationship. But I must have misheard, since – well, do remind me the last time you prepared a meal, or fetched us groceries? Which of us is earning money? And which of us volunteered to investigate the plumbing?’_

_'Well, that w-‘_

' _Who hasn’t worn a dress even once in the last two weeks?’_

_‘That’s simply be-‘_

_‘My darling,’_ Lydia would cut across her protests. _‘My last engagement was as your housekeeper, and it is quite unreasonable to expect a housekeeper to have a knowledge of roof construction.’_

 _My darling, my darling, my darling_ replayed itself through Jean’s head, and she burned with pleasure despite all the problems that running away together had given them. Better problems, she knew. Easier problems than having to rebuild her ruined reputation in that Yorkshire village. She had Lydia’s love. They had Charlie back, and a clean slate to write a brand new story on. What was a broken roof compared to that?

She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that her love for Lydia would last a lifetime. How could it not with those eyes, that smile, that quick wit, that incredible body… Jean closed her eyes and bit her lip as her stomach flipped at the memory of the night just passed. Lydia’s fingertips had left a burning trail behind them as they roamed Jean’s body. Stroking, rubbing, pinching, massaging, Lydia had taken her time tightening the coil that had lain dormant in Jean for so many years. After working the doctor almost to a frenzy, Lydia had used those same fingers to slip between her legs and ease the ache that had become unbearable. In no time at all Jean was gripping Lydia to anchor herself against wave after wave of ecstasy rolling through her body, trying desperately to stay quiet when all she wanted to do was cry Lydia’s name out to the ceiling, and all of Italy.

Lydia had held her tightly, placing soft, lingering kisses everywhere she could reach until the aftershocks had run their course and Jean’s pounding heart and ragged breaths had returned to normal. Exhausted, Jean had rolled onto her back and lost herself in her love’s eyes.

‘Have you any idea what you just did to me?’ Jean had asked.

‘A fair idea, I’d say.’ Lydia’s eyes had danced. ‘More to the point, do you know what _you’ve_ done to _me_?’

She’d straddled one of Jean’s creamy thighs, and the feeling of her warm wetness had immediately chased away Jean’s tiredness. She had used her tongue to show Lydia her love, wanting to taste the desire she had caused, wanting to saturate her senses with the thick and perfect scent only she was privy to.

They’d fallen asleep wrapped up in each other, sated and smiling, and for yet another night, Jean felt she must be the happiest person in all the world.

‘Are you okay, Dr. Markham?’ Charlie’s voice broke into her thoughts and she shook herself back to reality.

‘Yes,’ she told him.

He looked doubtful. ‘I called your name three times already.’

‘Sorry, Charlie. I was just…’ she coloured, realising she had been daydreaming about making love to his mother. ‘Just thinking about the roof. We’ll need this replaced.’

Charlie liked Dr. Markham very much, but he wasn’t convinced she was telling him the truth. He sighed. Italy was supposed to be a new adventure, but everybody was keeping secrets from him, just like in England.

‘I’ve finished with the gutters,’ he told her, and then picked his way over and sat down beside her, hugging his knees to his chest.

‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ Jean murmured, looking out to the horizon.

But Charlie didn’t comment. ‘Are we going to have bees again?’ he asked her instead.

‘Next year,’ she told him. ‘We’re too late in the season now. We’ll need to wait until next Spring.’

She saw his shoulders slump and decided to probe a little further.

‘What is it, Charlie? Are there things you need to tell them? Secrets?’

Charlie gave the doctor a sidelong glance. He thought the bees were safe, and the bees thought Dr. Markham was safe. And Dr. Markham told her secrets to the bees just as Charlie did. If he had guessed right, then his secret was really Dr. Markham’s secret, and the bees already knew. Maybe it was okay to ask. She’d never got angry at him before, but if she did then he could get down the tree faster than her.

He set his gaze on a field in the distance and, with a hammering heart and freshly sand papered tongue, prepared to ask his question.


	3. Chapter 3

‘Do you love my mum, Dr. Markham?’

She did not seem surprised at the question, but she didn’t reply immediately, and he thought she wasn’t going to answer. But then she said it, clear as day. ‘Very much.’

‘I don’t mean like a friend,’ he went on, not daring to look her in the eye yet. ‘I mean, do you love her like my dad used to love her?’

‘I know what you meant,’ she said quietly.

Charlie shifted his gaze from the field and began to pick at a scab on his knee.

‘She loves you the same,’ he told her. ‘You make her happy.’

‘Yes,’ Jean agreed.

‘But it’s a secret.’

‘Yes.’

‘Even from me?’

‘Not any more.’

Charlie could still hear the nervousness in her voice, but her last reply was laced with humour, and he turned his head to look at her. He was taken aback to see her hands were shaking.

‘But why?’

‘We were worried it would make things hard for you,’ she told him. ‘And that you wouldn’t understand.’

‘I don’t mind,’ he told her. ‘I didn’t like it when my mum was sad all the time. Now that she loves you she laughs and she dances again. I just didn’t know it could happen like this. With two girls, I mean.’

Jean nodded, floored by Charlie’s ease of acceptance. ‘It isn’t very common. In England it’s against the law.’

‘What about Italy?’

‘Not here,’ Jean shook her head.

‘Is that why we moved here?’

‘One of the reasons.’

‘So then, why don’t you hold her hand when we go out? Why is it still a secret?’

Jean sighed. How much simpler life would be if everybody had the same unprejudiced outlook as this curious ten year old boy.

‘Because even though it isn’t against the law, lots of people still find it strange and they don’t like it. I’m afraid it will already be difficult to establish myself as a doctor here, simply for being foreign. If people here find out that I love your mother in the way that I do, I might lose all my patients and we’d not have enough money to get by. I wish it was different, Charlie. But we must be very careful, and you musn’t tell anyone.’

Charlie understood. He had felt so angry when the girls at school had sung those songs about his dad and Irene. He didn’t want anyone to sing about his mother.

‘So we’ll always live here with you?’ he asked hopefully. ‘My mum isn’t going to get a new husband and move away again?’

‘Goodness, I hope not,’ Jean smiled, touched that Charlie was finding security in the unusual structure their home life had taken.

For a while, each was lost in their own thoughts, adjusting to this new reality. Jean’s heart rate slowed and her muscles relaxed under the warm sun. She hadn’t fixed the roof, but something better had come together from their talking.

‘Dr. Markham,’ Charlie said suddenly, having had a revelation. ‘Does this mean… are you… are you kind of like my stepmum?’

‘You know I can’t marry your mother, Charlie.’

‘I know, but you would, wouldn’t you? If you were allowed? She’s pretty, you know?’

‘I know,’ Jean agreed solemnly, and tried not to let out the girlish giggle that was bubbling up inside her.

She hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on something so futile, but of course, if she could marry Lydia she’d have already bought a ring and be worrying over how to ask the question.

‘Would you like me to be your family, Charlie?’

Charlie gave a non-comittal shrug and Jean reflected that perhaps this question was a bit much for a young boy.

‘I’ll be your friend,’ she told him decidedly. ‘You can’t choose your family, but you can choose your friends. We were friends before I even met your mother, don’t you remember?’

Charlie grinned. He hadn’t thought of that.

‘And when you need to tell your secrets to someone, I can keep them safe until we have our bees back. If you want me to.’

Charlie gave her a grateful smile. ‘Thanks, Dr. Markham.’

‘Perhaps it’s time you stopped calling me that,’ she mused. ‘You can call me Jean, if you like.’

Charlie thought on this for a while. Only grown ups called Dr. Markham “Jean”. Meg and Emma called her Jinjin, but he thought that was babyish. Jean didn’t sound right in his mouth. Calling Dr. Markham by her first name only was like calling his school teacher by her first name. The backs of his legs suddenly smarted as he imagined the caning he would get for doing such a thing. But Dr. Markham suddenly didn’t fit either, and seemed unusually formal for a friend. He’d have to come up with something new.

They were safely down the tree and drinking lemonade indoors when Lydia returned from town. Charlie saw her coming along the dirt road through the front room window and ran to meet her. Jean watched from the doorway as Lydia cycled onto their property with Charlie keeping pace with her front wheel. She braked outside the front steps and ruffled her boy’s hair.

‘Hey, Charlie boy,’ she greeted him affectionately. ‘What sort of mischief did you two get up to while I was away, hmm?’

‘Dr. Jean and I have been up on the roof,’ Charlie told her excitedly, beginning to take groceries out of her front basket.

Jean gave a quiet chuckle, realising this was the name that Charlie had chosen for her. Lydia shot her a confused look.

‘We had a talk, up on the roof,’ she explained.

‘We’re friends, so she said I don’t have to call her Dr. Markham anymore if I don’t want to. And mum,’ Charlie stepped in closer to her and put a hand on her knee. ‘It’s okay that you love her. I won’t tell anyone.’

Jean stepped down from the doorway as Charlie went past her with his arms full of market spoils. She recognised the mixed look of fear and bewilderment on Lydia’s face and went to ease her mind.

‘He figured it out by himself,’ she promised. ‘He only asked me to be sure.’

Lydia nodded and took a steadying breath. Then, coming to her senses, she pointed an accusatory finger at Jean.

‘You let him on the roof?!’

‘We’re friends,’ she adopted Charlie’s non-chalant way of explaining the situation. ‘And we wanted to have fun. You left us without adult supervision.’

Lydia was about to threaten Jean with no supper when she realised what it really meant, that Charlie knew. They could be themselves at home. All the time. Not just after Charlie was asleep, or when he was off exploring. She would not have to stop herself from carrying out all the intimate gestures that came naturally to her: straightening the collar on Jean’s blouses, tucking loose strands of hair back behind Jean’s ear, hello kisses and goodbye hugs, and resting her head on Jean’s shoulder when they listened to the wireless with Charlie. No more pretending that her bed was occupied at night. No more pretending anything.

Suddenly feeling light as a feather, she leapt from her bicycle and tugged Jean inside. The second the door was closed, her lips were on Jean’s, but they soon had to pull apart from smiling so hard. Charlie saw his mother from the kitchen, looking happier than he’d ever seen her, and he was gladder than ever that he’d gotten into the fight that had taken him to Dr. Jean’s surgery that day.


End file.
